Ginny could not fathom how she had been condemned to such a cruel fate. Here she stood, next to Draco Bloody Malfoy, being issued her task for tonight’s detention. All of this was his fault. Didn’t Professor McGonagall understand she was the innocent victim in all of this?

“I want them spotless, not one smudge visible. Do you understand?” the Gryffindor head of house lectured.

Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley glared at McGonagall’s retreating form. Ginny plopped onto the floor, a sullen look on her face, and grabbed a trophy to polish.

“This is all your fault, Weaselette.” Draco hissed, obtaining his own trophy.

“Oh, really, I seem to recall a certain Slytherin screaming ‘You probably have as much of a chance at getting laid as McGonagall does?’ Unless I’ve been possessing your body of late, then I believe the blame is fifty-fifty.”

“Even a pauper like yourself has to admit that the look on McGonagall’s face was well worth it though.” Draco smirked at her, and she couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Well, I suppose it was somewhat of a novelty to see that utterly scandalized look on her face.”

“I knew you possessed more intelligence than your great oaf of a brother.”

“Well, if you are referring to Ron, that really isn’t hard to do, Malfoy.”

Draco stared at her in shock, seemingly unable to comprehend the fact that the youngest Weasley had just agreed with him. Ginny scrubbed at the inside of a trophy with one hand while her fingers tapped against the stone floor.

Click, Click, Click…

Warm skin enveloped Ginny’s left hand, ceasing the incessant tapping. Gulping, she lowered her gaze to the pale hand covering her own. Heat spread throughout her face and with glowing cheeks, Ginny Weasley looked up when the Slytherin Prince called her name. The quiet stretched on for what seemed an eternity, before the redhead found her voice.

“Draco…”

Draco’s lips slowly quirked and they soon formed an obnoxious smirk.

“I would suggest, Weasley, that you stop that annoying tapping, before I am forced to cut off your hand.”

Ginny yanked her hand away from his, blushing furiously. Draco lifted a questioning eyebrow and then his smirk gave way to hysterical laughter.

“Weasel, you should have seen your face. It was priceless.” Being so preoccupied with his overall mirth at the situation, Draco missed the change in the red head’s demeanor. No longer did Ginny color with shades of embarrassment, oh no, now she colored with unadulterated anger. She clenched her hands into a fist, gripping so tight her knuckles turned white. The famous Weasley temper wanted to come out to play.

“What? Did you actually think," he gasped between his chuckles, “that I was trying to flirt? With you?” He laughed even harder, when an indignant look crossed her face. “Wow, Weasley, now that was priceless. Now this detention was worth while.”

A very audible slap was heard echoing throughout the corridors of Hogwarts.

Ginny Weasley turned back to her duties, scrubbing furiously at the grime, a result of neglect over the years. She completely disregarded the look of disbelief upon Draco Malfoy’s face. She paid no mind to the death glares she received, and even smiled when she took notice of the bright red fingerprints gracing Malfoy’s porcelain skin.

Malfoy scowled at her, but did not speak; instead he just picked up a trophy and got back to work. The two worked silently, stealing glances of each other occasionally.

It was almost midnight when Ginny replaced her last trophy. Draco sat beside her, scrubbing furiously at a Hufflepuff Quidditch cup from the 1800s. She was almost compelled to inform the poor Slytherin he was attempting to rub out an engraving. Almost being the key word.

Ginny noticed the red marks were gone, but her pride continued to sting. Licking her lips in anticipation, she leaned on her haunches, tapping Malfoy’s shoulder. He turned around and that was when she made her move.

Draco froze, completely helpless, when Ginny’s soft lips caressed his cheek. He was blushing furiously and Ginny could help but revel in it.

“Ginny?” Draco muttered, his voice husky.

Ginny began giggling senselessly and gasped, “You should see your face, Ferret boy.” She continued, a smirk forming on her delicate lips. “You actually thought I was trying to flirt? With you?” That said, she got up, skipped happily down the corridor and out of sight. Had she bothered to look back, she may have seen Draco Malfoy bring his hand to his cheek, his elegant fingers lightly touch where she had left her mark.